by Lauren Royal
Rose remained quiet.
“Of course she hasn’t,” Lily said. “They would never in a million years agree.”
“I’ve no need of their permission. I’m twenty-one. The money is legally mine.”
“But you knew you would have had an argument, didn’t you?” Lily’s blue eyes lit with sudden understanding. “That’s why we’re here with you instead of Mum, isn’t it? I’d wager Rowan isn’t even ill. How can you live with yourself, scheming behind your own mother’s back?”
Rose’s lips thinned. “You weren’t averse to scheming last week to get me to Windsor,” she pointed out. “I’d rather scheme than have my sister-in-law refuse to attend our wedding. If that happens, Kit may never forgive her.”
“Has it occurred to you,” Violet asked with concern, “that Kit might never forgive you for meddling in his affairs?”
It hadn’t, and Rose was taken aback for a moment.
But only a moment. “Kit’s not like that,” she said.
“You don’t know him—”
“I do.” This discussion was going nowhere, and Rose was finished with it. “What is it with all this traffic?” she asked, glaring out the window. “At this rate, my wedding day will arrive before we even get out of London.”
“Excellent attempt at changing the subject—” Violet started.
“No,” Lily interrupted. “Something is going on.”
The carriage hadn’t budged in the last ten minutes. Since they weren’t going anywhere anyway, they all climbed out.
“William and Mary,” Rose breathed. “Their wedding! I’d completely forgotten that today is the fourth of November.”
William of Orange and King Charles’s niece, Mary, rode in an open carriage down the Strand on their way to St. James’s Palace. Caught in the crush, Rose and her sisters were swept into the swarm of citizens lining the streets, waving and cheering as William and Mary approached.
“Everyone seems so happy to see them wed,” Lily remarked, holding onto her cat for dear life.
“She’s a Protestant,” Rose said. “Charles is no fool. He has no legitimate heirs, and he knows the people don’t want to see his Catholic brother James on the throne. He’s wise to marry James’s daughter to a Protestant prince like William of Orange.”
“When did you become so wise?” Violet asked.
Rose lifted her chin. “Just because I don’t bury my nose in books about the past doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of the present. This marriage made for much court gossip. Besides”—she shrugged and cracked a droll smile—“I vow and swear, there was little to do at court in the daytime besides read newsheets.”
The happy roar swelled as the bride and groom drew closer. But Mary didn’t look happy at all. In fact, as she rode by in the royal carriage, wearing a magnificent blue and gold gown and waving to the people, she looked ready to burst into tears.
“How old is she?” Lily asked.
“Fifteen. And William is twenty-seven.” Twenty-seven and short with stooped shoulders, bad teeth, and a large, beaked nose. Rose wouldn’t want to marry him, either. Her heart went out to poor Mary.
In contrast, how lucky she was to be marrying a man she truly loved. She could hardly wait for her own wedding just five days away. And she knew Kit felt the same.
Of course, that was assuming he wouldn’t be angry she’d forced matters with Ellen. Violet’s question kept rattling in her brain. Has it occurred to you that Kit might never forgive you for meddling in his affairs?
But with the wedding so close, she couldn’t allow this brother–sister standoff to continue. Not when there was a way to fix it. Standing by meekly was simply not in her nature.
Kit wouldn’t be angry; he’d be grateful. She knew him well enough to know that.
Didn’t she?
Sixty-Eight
WITH ALL THE excitement and delay caused by the royal wedding, night was falling by the time Rose and her sisters reached Windsor and the carriage jerked to a stop in front of the pawnshop.
Rose roused herself from a doze and climbed down, then turned back when nobody seemed to be following her. Shivering in the cold night air, she stuck her head through the open doorway of the vehicle. “Aren’t you two going to come with me?”
Her sisters looked at each other. “I think not,” Lily said for them both.
“We don’t choose to be part of this insanity,” Violet elaborated.
“Oh, do hush up,” Rose said. Obviously they didn’t appreciate her roping them into her plot, but she couldn’t have simply gallivanted about England alone. This was the sort of thing sisters were for, wasn’t it?
And she’d done some thinking on the way here to Windsor.
She clutched her cloak tighter around herself. “Do you know,” she told Violet, “I seem to remember you meddling in Ford’s affairs. For heaven’s sake, you patented and sold his invention without his knowledge; you secretly bought that book, thereby giving him your money—giving him your inheritance, Violet, hmm?—without him knowing—”
“It’s not comparable,” Lily cut in. “She gave the money to Ford, the man she was planning to marry. You’re giving yours to Ellen.”
Rose turned on her. “And you gave up control of your own money, too, to Rand’s father. Quite willingly, if I remember right.”
“That’s not comparable, either. It was the only way I could marry Rand.”
“I see. Speaking of Rand…wasn’t Rand the one who came to Violet with the plan to secretly save Ford’s estate? It seems to me he’s not averse to a little manipulation for a good cause. Are you telling me Rand would leave you if you meddled in his business?”
“Well, no. I am certain we would work it out. But you’re not married yet. What if Kit is so angry he calls off the wedding? Then you’ll have lost all your money, and—”
“Never mind.” There was no reasoning with either of them. Rose reached back into the carriage and hefted the bag of coins with a little grunt. Fuming, she stomped to the pawnshop’s door and knocked.
And knocked. And knocked.
She had just about decided the Whittinghams weren’t home when Thomas finally cracked open the door, his face illuminated by a single candle.
“We’re closed,” he said, then raised the candle higher. “Oh. Lady Rose.” With his free hand, he clutched the top of his half-open shirt.
She shifted the heavy bag in her arms. “I have something for Ellen. From Kit.”
He eyed the bag curiously. “Well, come in, then, will you?”
She followed him through the dark shop and up the stairs, noting his disheveled hair and wondering if she’d roused him from his bed. It was early yet, but he and Ellen were newly wedded. If Rose had her way, she’d be going to bed early every night with Kit. She could hardly wait to finish this and surprise him at his house.
“In here,” Thomas said at the top of the stairs, opening a door to a small room crammed full of furniture and decorative pieces.
“Rose!” Ellen jumped up from a chair, dressed in a pale pink wrapper. The firelight behind her left no doubt that she wore nothing underneath.
So Rose had guessed right. She wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or amused. “I’ve brought something for you. From Kit.” She walked closer and handed Ellen the bag.
Not expecting its weight, Ellen squealed as it slipped through her hands and fell to the floor with a thud, flopping onto its side. The top opened a little, and a coin rolled out and across the plain wooden boards, finally landing with a little clink. For a moment, it just sat there, glinting gold in the firelight.
Then Ellen rushed to scoop it up. She folded her fingers around it and looked to Rose, a question in her eyes.
“Your dowry,” Rose told her. “The first thousand pounds of it. The rest is forthcoming. It’s waiting in London whenever you decide to claim it.” She handed Ellen the goldsmith’s promissory note for nine thousand pounds. “I couldn’t carry more.”
That last sentence, at least, was
the truth. And if the rest of what she’d said was less than honest, it was meant well, for both Kit’s and Ellen’s good.
Rose sent up a little prayer that Kit would see it that way.
Ellen stared at the paper with the goldsmith’s name. Rose hoped she wasn’t going to fuss over the missing thousand pounds—ten thousand, after all, was a vast sum of money.
Ellen still hadn’t said a word. “Kit loves you,” Rose added simply.
“I know.” Tears flooded Ellen’s eyes. She opened her clenched fist and stared down at the coin. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Save your words for Kit. Just tell me you’ll come to our wedding.”
“Of course I will.”
Rose opened her arms, and Ellen stepped into her embrace.
“Kit needs you,” Rose murmured by her ear. “You’re his only family.”
Ellen hugged her tighter. “You’ll be his family soon.”
“It’s not the same. You’re with Thomas now, but Kit shares your blood.” Rose and her sisters bickered all the time, but even angry as she was with them now, she knew they only wanted the best for her. And they would always be there if she needed them. Always. “You need Kit, too. Sisters and brothers…it’s a bond that should never be broken.”
“I was going to make her go to your wedding, anyway,” Thomas put in.
“He was going to try to make me go,” Ellen clarified with a strained laugh. She took a deep breath and stepped back. “It was turning into our first fight.”
Rose eyed her scant apparel. “Not too serious, apparently.”
“Not yet.” This time the laugh was real, and a twinkle lit Ellen’s eyes. “We’ve been enjoying your sonnets.”
“Ellen!” Thomas protested, turning ten shades of red.
“They’re not mine,” Rose said dryly. “You’re welcome to them.”
She noticed both their gazes stray to the bag of coins and figured they were too polite to dump them all right there and wallow in their new fortune—but also that they were dying to do so.
“I’ll leave you, then,” she said. “To the sonnets and the gold.”
Thomas followed her back down the stairs. “Thank you,” he said at the door.
“Thank Kit.”
“We will. But I thank you, too. I’m aware that what Kit gives us comes out of your pocket as well.”
He didn’t know the half of it. “Kit and I have plenty,” she assured him. “It’s the love that counts anyway, isn’t it?”
He nodded as he locked the door behind her.
It had gone perfectly. She smiled to herself as a footman ushered her into the carriage.
“We’re sorry,” Violet and Lily said together before she could even sit down.
“Sorry?”
“We talked while you were gone. And you’re right,” Violet admitted. “We both gave up our inheritances for our men. And it was a good bargain.”
“The best,” Lily agreed.
Rose was stunned by their about-face. “It wasn’t exactly the same.”
“True.” Violet started a little as the carriage lurched and began the short drive down the hill to Kit’s house. “We both did it to win our men, and you already have Kit.”
Rose hoped she still would after she told him of this night’s work.
“We’ve decided,” Lily said, “that what you just did was more romantic. And noble.”
“Noble?” No one had ever described Rose Ashcroft as noble. “Noble?”
“We traded money for selfish reasons—for what we ourselves wanted. You sacrificed not for yourself, but for your husband’s happiness.”
“But can’t you see? I cannot be happy if Kit isn’t. That was the whole point.”
Her sisters exchanged a look. “She gets it,” Violet said gravely.
“Yes.” Lily breathed a languid sigh. “Isn’t love wonderful?”
The carriage rolled to a stop. “We’re here,” Rose announced unnecessarily, her heart suddenly pounding.
Here was her moment of truth.
As she climbed down the steps with her satchel, she ordered herself to relax. Despite her sisters’ dire predictions, she’d known from the first this would work. And she was dying to see Kit. Her entire body tingled in memory of their first night together last week.
Putting a smile on her face, she marched up the stairs and banged the knocker.
Graves promptly answered. “Lady Rose. What a surprise.”
“I hope it’s a pleasant one.” Surely everything would be all right. “Especially pleasant for Kit.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Martyn has gone to Hampton Court,” the butler told them. “My apologies, Lady Rose. I don’t expect him back until Thursday.”
“Thursday?” Rose echoed, her stomach souring with disappointment. Not only could she not see Kit, the roads were too dangerous to travel at night. The countryside was dark as sin, and highwaymen abounded. Standing on the doorstep, Rose looked helplessly at her sisters, then back to Graves. “Do you suppose we could stay the night anyway?”
“Of course, of course.” The butler reached for her satchel. “Mr. Martyn would have my head if I turned you away.”
In no time at all, he’d called for footmen to take their luggage and maids to ready rooms. He sent word to the cook to prepare a fine meal, then ushered the sisters through the magnificent entry hall and into the drawing room to await supper.
Rose plopped onto the moss green settle. “I cannot believe this.”
“All is not lost.” Lily shrugged and set down her cat before sitting beside her. “We shall have a nice sisterly evening together.”
Rose had wanted to spend the evening with Kit. Her body all but ached, reminding her. “I think I just want to go to sleep—” Suddenly an alarming thought occurred to her. “Good God, this is terrible. I won’t be able to explain to Kit before we leave.”
“Explain what?” Violet asked, perusing a book she’d found on a shelf.
“About Ellen and the money. I need to explain. Else he might hate me and call off the wedding—”
“Oh, Rose.” Lily covered her hand with her own. “I’m sorry we ever said that. Kit isn’t going to hate you.”
Violet shut the book and sat on her other side. “As you pointed out, I meddled in Ford’s life, too. And he certainly didn’t hate me for doing those things. In fact, he thought it was wonderful.”
But now that the idea had taken root in her head, Rose couldn’t help but worry. “Ford is different,” she said. “He thrives on invention, creation—he’s not a man driven by ambition, as Kit is. Ford’s happiest when other people take care of the details so he can concentrate on his science. But Kit is used to being in charge. He may not take lightly to my arranging his life.”
“You said you know him,” Lily reminded her. “You said you were certain he wouldn’t react badly.”
That was true. Her heart stopped pounding quite so hard. “You’re right,” she said, “I do know Kit. He’ll probably laugh when he hears what I’ve done.”
But a moment later she was doubting again. She felt as though her emotions were buffeted by the wind.
More than anything, she wanted to talk to Kit and see his reaction once and for all. But she couldn’t drag her sisters to Hampton Court, and she couldn’t send them home in the carriage and wait here until Thursday, either. Her wedding was Saturday. She had to make flower arrangements, help her mother…
“I’ll leave him a letter,” she decided. “And I’ll ask him to send a message as soon as he reads it.” She’d be counting the hours until Thursday night when, she hoped, she’d receive words of reassurance. Words that would allow her a good night’s sleep.
“The perfect solution,” Violet said.
Not perfect, but the best Rose could do.
“He loves you,” Lily reminded her.
Rose could only hope he loved her enough.
Sixty-Nine
HE WAS A coward.
Kit had argued with himse
lf on the entire drive from London. Should he give Ellen her dowry before the wedding, so she’d attend and neither of them would be sorry later? Or wait until she started talking to him again, no matter how long it took?
He wanted to do the latter; he didn’t want to give in to her childish behavior, and he didn’t want to feel like he was buying her love. But he didn’t have the guts. As evidenced by the fact that, following his final inspection of the completed chapel at Whitehall, he’d detoured to visit his goldsmith before driving back here to Windsor.
Not to mention that even though his work had kept him a day later than he’d intended—even though it was nightfall already and his wedding was tomorrow—he was even now heading up the High Street to Ellen’s house instead of down the hill to his own.
Still, if he was a coward, at least he was a happy one.
Amazingly, in less than twenty-four hours, Rose would be his. He hadn’t needed the knighthood, let alone a more important title. He’d won her as plain Kit Martyn, and there was satisfaction to be found in that.
No more mishaps had occurred, and, in fact, his work was proceeding extremely well. Lord Trentingham, of course, was enamored of his new greenhouse. Charles was pleased with the chapel at Whitehall, and when he saw the exquisite dining room here in Windsor, which was also now complete, Kit was confident he’d approve. It was unfortunate the new Hampton Court building was so far behind schedule, but as its intended occupant was currently in France, that wasn’t exactly disastrous. And Kit was certain that, when finished, it, too, would exceed Charles’s expectations. Despite losing the Deputy Surveyor post, his future was not at all bleak.
A week from today, he and Rose would attend the queen’s birthday celebration at Whitehall, then leave for Italy the day after that. A dream come true for them both. He would learn from the great architects, and Rose would be there to translate.
But first things first, Kit thought as his carriage drew up before the pawnshop. Before he could be happy with the new woman in his life, he needed to square things with the old one.